I asked of my dear friend Orator Prig:
"What's the first part of oratory?" He said, "A great wig."
"And what is the second?" Then, dancing a jig
And bowing profoundly, he said, "A great wig."
"And what is the third?" Then he snored like a pig,
And puffing his cheeks out, he replied, "A great wig."

When the hollow drum has beat to bed
And the little fifer hangs his head,
When all is mute the Moorish flute,
And nodding guards watch wearily,
On, then let me,
From prison free,
March out by moonlight cheerily.